


Trust Me

by theemdash



Category: Stargate SG-1
Genre: Bodyswap, Dubious Consent, Episode Related, Episode: s09e19 Crusade, F/M, Humor, Masturbation, Missing Scene, Other, Season/Series 09
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-03-15
Updated: 2006-03-15
Packaged: 2018-09-08 16:43:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 601
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8852524
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theemdash/pseuds/theemdash
Summary: Daniel takes a few moments alone in his office.  (Missing scene from "Crusade.")





	

**Author's Note:**

> written for stargatefic100 - 038. Touch  
> Special thanks to janedavitt for betaing duties and to jissa for photoshoping abilities.  
>  **Spoilers:** missing scene for "Crusade"

Daniel's back presses into his office chair and—for one moment in his life—the appropriate time and place become irrelevant. The skin under Daniel's hand tingles with the memory of skilled fingers. It's obviously been too long since he took this liberty.

Discreetly positioned behind his desk, Daniel's hands rub his prick in the shadows. The quiet whisper of fabric and the computer fan are the only sounds. Closing his eyes, settling into the rhythm, there's a laugh just outside the door, loud enough to stay his movements. The voices fade as they move past and Daniel's skin once again acquiesces to the sinful rhythm.

Daniel's right hand keeps up the pressure and speed, his left seizing his belt and quickly working the clasp and zip of his BDUs. 

"Military efficiency," hisses from between tight lips. 

His hand snakes in, squeezing past boxers, firmly grabbing his flesh. The moan that escapes Daniel's mouth sounds foreign to his ears, like someone else's desire leaking from his lips. The danger of this moment—of being discovered—is like touching flesh for the first, forbidden time.

Fingers creep down to stroke Daniel's balls, pressing into the loose skin and then skirting delicately over the sensitive flesh. This would be better done in front of a mirror, cataloguing the places that feel the best, but there's no time to find a mirror. There's no time for anything more than a hand job. The SGC is always negotiating one disaster after another; there are meetings to keep, things to do, and Dr. Jackson is needed elsewhere. 

But this one private moment is allowed because it's needed.

Daniel's fingers wrap around his dick again. His mouth opens, breathing harshly past dry lips. Daniel's face reflects off the silver coffee pot next to his desk. The reflection's lips tug into a smile and its eyes slide closed.

"That's an image to remember." The words are panted, not spoken. So close now.

Daniel's balls constrict, his breath hitching, but the orgasm still comes as a surprise. It's an epiphany, like the knowledge of the entire universe crammed inside one head. Daniel's forehead is flushed and clammy all at once. His hand, still pumping through the come, is tingling. 

It's over.

Daniel's eyes flutter open. He takes the last tissues from the box and cleans the come from heated skin. When Daniel tosses the tissues away, leaning over to aim in the general direction of the trashcan, a damp spot inside his BDUs presses against his skin.

Daniel's mouth is dry; his fingers clutch the first cup he finds with liquid in it—which happens to be cold, old coffee—and downs it fast enough to ignore most of the taste. He wipes his forehead on his sleeve, pushes back his hair, and adjusts his glasses.

His lungs fill with a steadying breath and he rises from his chair.

It's then that his eyes focus on the security cameras.

The blinking red light says hello and blandly reminds, "Yes, I saw you whacking off. You should be embarrassed."

Daniel flashes the camera a brilliant, unabashed smile, and waves. His tongue darts in a lewd gesture and then he smacks his ass with a little bark, throwing in a wink for good measure.

Leaning over the desk, he grabs a marker, and scores a blank legal pad under the mess of notes. He chews on the cap before scrawling a quick note; then tosses down the marker and leaves to find Mitchell. The note lies in the middle of his desk in a handwriting that is not quite his own.


End file.
